I feel out of touch with the world. I spend my time worrying about how I’m going to live my life instead of experiencing it. I don’t understand, or share, most of the concerns of the people who I spend most of my time interacting with. My notion of reality – the “real world” – is narrated by my Twitter feed and YouTube clips.
Thing is, it’s not a bad life that I’m leading. In fact, it’s pretty good. But, it’s not animated. There is little character in my life and it follows a very predictable routine. There’s nothing to shake up or shake off. Actually, I’m wondering how I can add an additional source of income to my schedule (you may have noticed the ads on the blog – my apologies).
I’ve been thinking about this post since Friday after school, when I was hoping to sit down and write it. I’m here now, late on Sunday evening, punching away at my keyboard with jazz music playing in the background. Today, I was supposed to clean my entire apartment, getting rid of anything unnecessary and neatly organizing whatever remained. It was supposed to be the day that I got myself ready to enjoy March Break and to take on all of those nasty errands that have been placed haphazardly on the backburner. Which, I might add, are starting to smoke and may soon catch fire.
Instead, I was able to convince myself that I should spend today relaxing because I work hard and I deserve a break, even if it is only for one more day. Tomorrow, I’m sure, I’ll get right on it.
The empty pages of my diary (pictured above) are a farce. A dream, as it were, of a hope of an imaginary time when I may soon be free of my worldly concerns, as out of touch with them as I may be. The advertisements for the Lotto have become more enticing. As soon as I publish this post, I intend to fill in those empty pages with what I can remember of the list of things that I have to do while I’m afforded the time.
Still, I’m nagged by the concern that I’m not actually experiencing my life. This is all reminding me of times spent in the smoking section of the cafe in the Students’ Union building – affectionately referred to as the “Shatner” building – chatting with my friends and members of my cohort about what we were each reading and how life is passing us by, blissfully ignorant of the fact that we were actively shortening whatever amount of time has been afforded us. Then, however, it was a great experience, and worth the cost. Looking back now, it felt like youth.
In order to counter this nagging feeling, I’m determined to spend an afternoon at the Art Gallery of Ontario, checking out the exhibition of American photography and film. As small an act as this may seem, it’s all I can manage with the time and resources I have.
March Break, really, has become an opportunity for me to catch up and realign. It’s time granted to me to step away from the concerns of students’ learning and focus on some small, incremental, pitifully tiny personal growth. I’d like to spend some time culling through the seemingly endless stream of ideas in my head, and set myself up to work away on them for the next few months. Plus, I have to do my taxes, see the doctor, go in for overdue blood work and x-rays, respond to personal emails, and fucking clean my apartment.